How a Dying Woman Rewrote Her Epilogue

The sudden realization of the truth left Elodie silent for a long moment. "Is that so? But are you honestly saying you feel nothing for Sylvie? People's feelings aren't carved in stone. Everyone saw how close you were. The day I got my diagnosis, you were with her, setting off fireworks for her birthday."

Even on her own birthday, Jarrod had been with Sylvie, lighting up the sky.

"That day was her birthday, yes," Jarrod replied, meeting her eyes, "but it was also our wedding anniversary. Ivan was about to get out of prison around that time. I figured you'd forgotten-I thought maybe you'd remember."

The truth was, he'd been upset that day. Ivan was due to be released the very next day after their anniversary.

"The thought of Ivan getting out already had me on edge. You never used to forget our anniversary, but that year you didn't mention it at all. I guess I read too much into it." His voice was raw, every hidden, unflattering thought tumbling out, no longer able to disguise the sting he'd kept inside.

And then, out of nowhere, Elodie had asked for a divorce.

Deep down, he'd always known. He'd always sensed it.

He'd been picking fights with her for ages now. Even the fireworks that night had nothing to do with Sylvie.

Elodie stared off, lost for a moment, remembering how she'd felt back then, and suddenly she understood Jarrod's bitterness. That showy fireworks display wasn't a celebration at all—it was a silent accusation, a desperate plea for her to care, for her to remember their anniversary, to remember him.

But...

hardly ever home. Do you really think I had the strength to care about an anniversary?" She didn't want

Jarrod had been gone so much during that time-what energy

a heartbeat, Jarrod's

back

for a while, he'd actually avoided Elodie-afraid she'd cut him out

realized she was suffering, not from love lost, but from

ask her how

out two. "Stop torturing yourself,"

my way of trying to make you notice me. It was pathetic, I know. I

hoarse, every word slow and heavy, each one

For some

balm and a wound all at once. Maybe it wasn't about forgetting or healing. Maybe it was

were both proud,

innocence-who could ever untangle it

Jarrod let her go.

on the bed, and said, "I've been tired lately. Don't worry, I'll take the medicine, just

grinned, eyes closed, "Of course, if you feel sorry for me and want to stay, I wouldn't say